Hot'n Cold and Hot Again
by Morganeth Taren'drel
Summary: -Set after The Benders- Dean finds sleep impossible when Sam won't stop playing with the thermostat.


**AN**: After multiple rewrites I think I'm finally happy with the end results. Many thanks to my friend Shuffles for the prompts 'name' and 'thermostat' who would have guessed this prompt would have given me so many problems. I hope if you choose to read that you enjoy this story!

Many Huge thanks to **Shuffles!!** For editing this story for me! And also to **faceted_mind** for offering suggestion that helped me find that '_Something_' this story was missing!

**Disclaimer**: I don't own the characters from Supernatural

**Hot'n Cold and Hot Again**

_Tick-tick-tick..._

"Sam," Dean growled the name, voice rough from sleep.

_Tick-tick-tick-tick…_

Dean rolled over on the lumpy bed with a frustrated sigh, pushing the blankets down to his waist; the motel room felt stuffy, hot, making sleep impossible to find. Cracking open one eye Dean blearily saw his little brother seated at the tiny desk, laptop almost completely hidden behind his lanky frame.

Dean briefly considered trying again to get his brother's attention, but as he was feeling a little cooler now that the blankets were mostly gone he decided it was too much effort.

---SPN---

_The path was cold and damp and looked as though it stretched on forever. Dean placed one foot determinedly in front of the other because he knew he couldn't stop, he had to find Sammy. The panic that gripped his heart when he'd left the bar hadn't let __up; it felt like an iron band was constricting his chest; his heart pounding futilely against it. He was cold and exhausted, his boots slipping on the wet leaves covering the forest floor. Dean wanted to run to Sammy but his legs wouldn't move beyond a slow crawl. He shivered in the cold seeing no end to the forest ahead of him, no sign of his little brother._

_Tick-tick...click.....click.... _

"Sammy..." the name barely escaped through chattering teeth.

Dean was curled into a tight ball on the center of his bed; the nightmare a faint haze at the back of his mind. The room that had been stifling only a little while before was freezing now. He fumbled for the blankets he'd discarded, every muscle trembling from both the temperature and effort. Forcing heavy lids to open, Dean reassured himself that Sammy was still there; was still seated at his laptop; shoulders hunched like he did when he was very interested.

-_Don't you sleep?_- he thought tiredly but couldn't seem to get his chattering teeth to cooperate enough to form the words.

---SPN---

_The fire burned deep within Dean's shoulder and he clenched his teeth against the cry of pain begging to be released. He was frozen in place; head held in a vice like grip as the blazing piece of metal danced before his eyes, dangerously close. His brain screamed at his body to fight, to escape, to do anything but sit there taking the torture. Dean didn't move an inch as the white hot iron found his shoulder again, searing his flesh. Despite his best efforts the scream escaped him, scraping his throat raw._

_Click...tick-tick-tick..._

Dean jerked awake, his breathing coming in soft gasps. The room was stifling again when Dean woke; his skin feeling dry and stretched tight across his body.

_Tick-tick-tick-tick... _

His sleep addled brain tried to make sense of it all. He didn't even want to glance at the clock to see how little sleep he'd actually managed. All he knew was sleep would be impossible to find if he couldn't shake his run in with the Benders and if Sam wouldn't just leave well enough alone and sleep.

"Stop it Sam!" he roared, his frustration actually managing to carry across the room.

"What?" Sam asked.

Dean forced himself into a sitting position, the blankets tumbling away from his hot skin. "Stop playing with the temperature," he growled scrubbing a hand down his face. "It was amusing when we were kids," he continued, dropping elbows onto knees.

Sam turned in his chair, the meager illumination from the laptop making his expression hard to read. "Dean what are you talking about?" Sam asked, a note of concern in his voice.

"One minute you're cold, the next minute you're hot?" he questioned with a shake of his head. "What's going on Sam?"

"Dean, I haven't touched the thermostat," Sam said slowly as he got up from his chair. "Are you feeling alright?" his brother asked, crossing the room to Dean's bed.

"I'm tired," he said pointedly, "I'd like to get some sleep."

Sam's hands landed on the back of his neck and forehead simultaneously to keep him from pulling away. They felt suspiciously cold sending shivers down Dean's body. "Dude, you've got a fever," Sam told him bluntly.

Dean glared at his brother. "Do not," he returned petulantly, unwilling to admit even to himself that the cool touch had felt good.

"Right Dean, 'cause it's much more likely I'm sitting here playing with the thermostat," Sam said dryly. He walked across the room to his bag digging through it for a bottle of pills. "I knew I should have taken you to the ER," Sam fumed, clearly more worried than angry.

The older Winchester raised a hand to rub across his short hair, not liking the tremble he felt and saw in the limb. His entire body ached, betraying him. "You want to try and explain this burn in a way that won't involve the police?" he returned tiredly. Dean had done his best to down play the injury until they'd made it back to the Impala but he hadn't been able to hide the pain from Sam.

"Here take these," Sam instructed, handing Dean a couple of pills and an open bottle of water. "Drink all of it," he added, heading for the bathroom.

"Yes _Mom_," he replied sarcastically, downing the pills with a mouthful of water. He'd taken something for the pain earlier but the more he shook sleep from his tired mind the more Dean noticed the burning ache in his left shoulder. It quickly became abundantly clear that the heat he was feeling from the room was actually originating from himself.

"What are we supposed to do now?" Sam asked from inside the bathroom; his question punctuated by the sound of running water. "It's not like this is any easier to explain now that it's infected."

"No hospital," he said firmly, drinking about half the bottle before he placed it aside.

"We've only got a week's worth of antibiotics left," his brother said coming back into the room with their first aid kit and a damp cloth in hand.

"A week will be enough," Dean said trying to reassure as he stretched back out on his bed.

Sam dropped the cloth onto Dean's eyes; his brow furrowed in worry. "The average is ten days," he pointed out.

Dean slid the cold face cloth further up his forehead finding it to be a welcomed relief as several shivers ran down his spine. "It'll be enough," he contended. It would half to be; they couldn't afford the questions that would come from an ER visit. Dean let his eyes fall closed, trying to focus on the cold cloth rather than the heat radiating off of him. He heard Sam run the water again in the bathroom a moment before he came back over to the bed.

"I need you to sit up for a minute," Sam said as he sat down on the edge of the bed.

The older Winchester reluctantly shrugged aside the cloth and pushed himself up onto his elbows; to see Sam holding out another pill and his half finished bottle of water. Dean accepted the antibiotic with his right hand and tossed it into his mouth before reaching for the water. Handing the bottle back again Dean lowered himself back onto his pillow letting his heavy lids fall closed.

"Hey, one more thing," Sam said, replacing the cloth on his forehead.

"Let me sleep," he said, insisting in his own mind that it didn't sound like a whine. Dean jerked in surprise when Sam stuck a cold piece of metal inside his mouth. "Hey," he growled cracking open an eye.

"Humor me," his brother told him flatly, keeping his index finger on the end of the thermometer for a second longer.

Dean briefly considered spitting it back in Sammy's face, but didn't doubt his brother would just try again. Sam could be like a dog with a bone when there was something he wanted; he'd been like that since he was old enough to crawl. When the thermometer beeped a moment later Dean did spit it towards his brother watching through his lashes to see the expression on Sammy's face.

"You're how old?" Sam asked dryly, as he looked at the electronic read out. "101.9."

It was high; but not life threatening. Not high enough to warrant a trip to the ER, for which Dean was grateful. He wasn't sure he'd have been able to stand on his own and few things were more annoying or embarrassing than having to lean on his '_little_' brother.

"Try and get some sleep Dean, I'm going to clean and redress the wound," his brother explained cool hand resting briefly against Dean's shoulder.

He nodded mutely, letting his eyes fall closed as Sam began shifting things around before reaching for the bandage on Dean's left shoulder. The room still felt unbearably hot to Dean, but the cold cloth and meds were starting to make it bearable. He winced; a grunt escaping him as Sam pulled aside the bloodied gauze.

"Sorry."

"S'okay," the word sounded slurred to Dean's ears, other sounds around the room slowly fading into a dull hum.

_Dean heard the shot cut through the night like the end of the world; the end of his world, the end of Sammy's life. And the only thought that passed through Dean's head was 'he'd failed.' He hadn't been able to save his brother; the one job he'd had for nearly his entire life and he'd failed. That seemed to be all he was capable of doing; why else had dad taken off on his own? He needed to finish what had started twenty-two years ago and Dean would just drag him down._

_The men laughed around him, laughed at his pain, at their win. But all Dean could think of was…_

"Sammy!"

Cool hands on his shoulder and sternum restrained Dean's violent struggle and his eyes flew wide only to see Sam's worried face staring down at him. "Hey, I'm here, I'm here," Sam repeated voice calm, real; his hands grounding Dean in reality.

"Damn…" he bit out, falling limply against his pillow.

"You okay?" Sam asked, one hand removing the cloth to dip into a bowl of water before replacing it.

"Peachy," Dean replied on reflex, drawing in a few shallow breaths. "How long?"

"What?"

"How long was I asleep?" he clarified forcing his eyes to open again.

Sam glanced towards the room's clock. "About an hour," he supplied returning his attention to Dean.

"Wonderful…" Dean groaned.

There was a moment of silence as Sam's hand squeezed Dean's shoulder. "You found me Dean, you got me out."

Dean laughed dry and tired. "That's not how I remember it…"

"That's just the fever talking, Dean," Sam tried to assure, keeping a firm grip on his brother.

"Right," he agreed, lacking the strength to put up much of an argument.

Sam's hand finally released Dean's shoulder but he didn't get up from the bed, nor did his other hand leave its spot on Dean's chest. "Try and get some sleep," he instructed.

He nodded slightly already feeling the blackness form up around him again. "Don't you disappear…" he warned voice barely above a whisper.

"I won't," were the last words Dean heard.

Thanks for Reading!

Morganeth Taren'drel


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